


The Monster In The Dark

by ToMarsAndBeyond3



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Horror, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 12:33:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToMarsAndBeyond3/pseuds/ToMarsAndBeyond3
Summary: A little halloween inspired work exploring PTSD and the premise of Young Adult Novels.The narrator wakes up in the dark, suspended in midair with immobilized legs. They remember the dog, with it's thinning hair and glowing eyes. They remember their friends, crying.They remember Aaron, and the Boxhead that took his life.





	The Monster In The Dark

I shouldn't have hung out with them.

It was harmless, just a day to get to know old friends. I hadn't seen them in years; why would I have? We'd done our duty. We'd gone on our adventures, been pulled around by an uncaring universe into situations burned into our minds eye. Todd says he remembers it like burning in his skin, an itch that he can't get rid of that only gets stronger; it tries to kill him. Christian says he remembers it like a dried stream, every hope and dream he had whisked away by the heat of the sun. Val said that he thinks of it like fire, burning away at his sanity.

I remember none of these things, and anyway, the way I remember the horrors of our past doesn't matter. What I do remember is the dog.

The dog was an unusual creature, with proportions just a little bit off. It's fur was falling out in clumps of hair that was thinning anywhere it was still, and it's eyes bore into me like a hacksaw being buried into my arms. I should know too; I can confirm that hacksaw hurt like all living hell, and every other not-so-friendly afterlife I've been to. Then I remember the car, and the trees.

Then there was nothing.

But that didn't mean I didn't know what was going on.

I saw the darkness when I came to, my back hurting like a bitch and my legs completely immobilized. Of course he would put my legs out, that mother fucker. I sneered into the darkness, and the figure there laughed.

“Angry?” It questioned me with an air of pride; it had won it's sick little game. I wasn't scared, not really.

After all, the least he could do was kill me, and I've been down that road too many times to be frightened by it. Death was gentle; she did not judge or mock. Her hands were always so soft with me, her smile and eyes always so bright in the black of dying. I had hoped to see her again for so long, but never could I bring myself to do it.

The books make it seem fun, being called to adventure. But in reality it was nothing but another gruesome reality of war, of sleepless nights as your post traumatic stress disorder makes you fear that one of the boxheads is going to knife you in the back at any moment. 

Those books are a fairytale. This is reality.

“No.” My reply to the being holding me captive is dry. There is no more room in me for anger, or sadness. I would suggest it's because of my age, but I'm only twenty three.

Maybe it's because of the bottle of adderall I took before I got behind the wheel.

“Liar.” The being's voice scratched gouges into the wall, and claws scratch them into my face. “Liar, you are! You hang in my lair after years of-”

“Searching.” I finish it's sentence, and it almost sounds like something sad. “We've been searching.”

“You cannot help me.”

No, that's true. There's no helping the creature. I know why the light is off, why it does not want me to see it's face. I know what it will look like already.

Val remembers fire. Todd remembers the burning in his skin. Christian remembers the dried stream.

I remember Aaron, the knife plunged through his throat as a Boxhead screamed it's war cry. I remember his face growing and warping into something unrecognizable as he screamed too, his whole body bending into something unnatural. The truth is, I never told the others how I remember our time in the Outer Layers because… all I remember is Aaron. We had our first kiss in that spot where he died.

No, not died. Maybe I was using that more as a metaphor. Because Aaron was dead, the person he was is gone. The creature that stands before me in the darkness smiles with it's warped face and bent figure, and I want to cry.

“I cannot allow this,” says the creature. “The war doesn't end. It will never end. You all will come back, you will fight.”

“No,” I repeat from the moments before. “No.”

I can't, oh god, I can't let that happen.

“Then you know what I must do.”

I do, and this time, I smile. It's a wet smile, filled with tears and a red face that you can almost see through the darkness. It's a smile, because as my eyes adjust, I can finally see the creature. I can focus in on it just in time for the bladed hand with it's sharp, eight little fingers as they dig into my chest. It pulls out something red and pulsing, patterned with pretty purple veins and a red paint that brightens the room. It's beautiful.

Aaron smiles back at me, and I fall into sleep, finally getting peace from the nightmares.


End file.
